The Elder Scrolls III: Path to Red Mountain
by Brasta Septim
Summary: The story of an orphan, brought from the Imperial Prison to a strange new land, and a prince of Cyrodiil, and their quest to defeat Dagoth Ur.
1. Chapter 1

**THE ELDER SCROLLS III: PATH OF RED MOUNTAIN**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** **Numerous references to Elder Scrolls Lore and previous games WILL be made in this fic. I do not in any way own the rights to Arena, Daggerfall, Morrowind, or any game of the Elder Scrolls series. **

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**Prologue**

**Cyrodiil, The Imperial Palace **

**The eve of 25 Last Seed, 3E 427**

Uriel Septim VII had always seemed to be able to predict unusual events. Some thought him a senile old man, others a crafty manipulator, and still others a living saint. No matter what was thought of him, everybody could agree on one thing; he certainly had the gift of foreseeing certain events that could change the Empire forever. And now, it seemed something new was about to occur.

It was for this reason the Elder Council had been assembled in the dead of night, some even having to be "coerced" from their homes and spirited away to White Gold Tower. Needless to say, once they arrived... the Council was **not** pleased.

"I hope you have a good explanation of why you had me dragged all the way from my manor in Anvil at _midnight_?" Grumbled an irritated Duke, smoothing out his rumpled velvet cloak.

"Patience, Eiranus. I'm sure it's an emergency." Said a shabbily-dressed noble from across the Elder Council table, an amused smile playing across his face.

"That's easy for you to say, **Brasta. **This isn't the first time you've been brought all the way across the province in the dead of night!" shouted a rather disgruntled Dark Elf noble.

"Quiet, Helseth! I don't exactly enjoy being brought here either, but we may as well stop complaining about it and _listen_!" Barked Brasta, his bright aquamarine eyes shooting King Helseth a glare. As the councilors around him started to protest again, the sound of an opening door silenced them. All heads in the room swiveled around as Uriel Septim VII, Emperor of Tamriel strode into the room in a whirl of purple silk and ermine.

"Welcome, my councilors. I suggest you all take your seats now; we have much to discuss in so little time." All councilors grudgingly sat down, except for a High Elf in a red silk robe who quickly moved to the Emperor's side as he seated himself on his throne. "Now, you are probably wondering why I've summoned you here..."

"Naturally." piped up Brasta, leaning back in his chair. "What is it this time? Queen Potema's spirit is haunting Castle Dour? Orsinium is rebelling? Someone _else _got thrown into Oblivion and replaced by an unscrupulous mage?" He said cheekily, the last one evoking a slight frown on Emperor's face.

"No, none of that. This time, our troubles are in Morrowind, in Vvardenfell..." Brasta groaned as he thought, _Oh Akatosh, not again! I've been to Red Mountain once to get the last piece of that blasted staff. I don't want to go back again... _Uriel, unaware of Brasta's thoughts, continued. "Vvardenfell, ever since being opened up to Imperial settlement, is near a state of chaos. A disease known as the "Blight" has been reawakened, and is weakening both our forces and the power of the Tribunal in Vvardenfell." A few scoffs erupted at that statement- very few people in that room had a particularly view of the three "living gods" Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil; or the "Tribunal" as they were commonly known. "An organization known as the Sixth House cult seems to be behind these happenings, along with the supposed "Devil" of Vvardenfell, Dagoth Ur." The very name sent shivers down Brasta's spine- he didn't like Red Mountain. No, he _hated _Red Mountain, and all its nasty residents. And unfortunately for him, that was where the trouble was brewing.

"Well, what are WE supposed to do about it?" demanded Queen Elysana of Wayrest, a rather haughty Breton woman, missing the glare being shot at her by her stepbrother, Helseth.

_"_I_ suppose _he has a plan already prepared to wipe the Blight from my kingdom, being the clever ruler he is. I hope I'm not being too presumptious, Your Majesty?" said Helseth in a falsely charming, oily tone, glancing towards the Emperor.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I have discovered a certain legend, which I would like to read to you..." Uriel produced a small book and gingerly opened it, lying it flat on the table. He cleared his throat, and read aloud the title, "_Nerevar Moon-and-Star_." Brasta could not help but notice the four dumer councilors in the room stiffened immediately, casting wary glances towards the book as the emperor read.

_"In ancient days, the Deep Elves and a great host of outlanders from the West came to steal the land of the Dunmer. In that time, Nerevar was the great khan and warleader of the House People, but he honored the Ancient Spirits and the Tribal law, and became as one of us._

_ So, when Nerevar pledged upon his great Ring of the Ancestors, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honor the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land, all the Tribes joined the House People to fight a great battle at Red Mountain._

_ Though many Dunmer, Tribesman and Houseman, died at Red Mountain, the Dwemer were defeated and their evil magicks destroyed, and the outlanders driven from the land. But after this great victory, the power-hungry khans of the Great Houses slew Nerevar in secret, and, setting themselves up as gods, neglected Nerevar's promises to the Tribes._

_ But it is said that Nerevar will come again with his ring, and cast down the false gods, and by the power of his ring will make good his promises to the Tribes, to honor the Spirits and drive the outsiders from the land..."_

A tense silence filled the council chambers, until broken by a loud guffaw of laughter. All eyes turned to see King Helseth himself, mouth open in an expression of perfect mirth.

"You.. you're joking, right? That's your idea? Use an old fable invented by a bunch of yurt-dwelling nomads in the middle of an ash-choked wasteland? This is just too..." Helseth waved his hands in disbelief as he thought of an appropriate term, "**ludicrous,** to be real! It's just a fable told to children-"

A curved dagger suddenly impaled itself in the area of the table directly in front of Helseth, effectively silencing him. "Fable or not, Ra'basha tinks dat His Majesty may have an idea, and Ra'basha is no foolish kitten, **Helseth**." growled a khajiit lady who sat to Helseth's right.

"Thank you. Councilor Ra'basha." Uriel said warmly, his blue eyes turning cold for the brief minute they rested on Helseth. "It is a legend, yes- but it is the best shot we have. If we can send someone who just _might_ be the Nerevarine, or at least appear convincingly to be so, we could use them as a rallying point to temporarily unify the tribes, Great Houses, and Imperial forces behind a common cause and end the Blight once and for all."

The silence that proceeded that statement was broken by a new voice; Arvil Dralen, the Duke of Firewatch. "Well, as ambitious as that plan is, I already see several drawbacks." he drawled. "For one, we don't even have a clue of a decent candidate to be the Nereva-"

"Actually, I do, Duke Dralen." said Uriel, eyes full of triumph. "I have seen in my dreams a certain person, born on a certain date to uncertain parents, who certainly meets the conditions of the legend..." He turned to Brasta. "Once he arrives in Morrowind, that is where you come in, my wise cousin."

"Oh?" said Brasta, raising an eyebrow. It was always up to him, as the Emperor's cousin and Champion, to do these sort of things. Not that he minded, of course.

"It is your job to make sure that the potential Nerevarine can fulfill the criteria of this legend... preferably without him dying in the process. In other words, you are to make sure that the Nerevarine survives every fight, fullfills every last mystic prophecy, condition, rite and ritual necessary to unite the houses... and end the Blight.

Ignoring all eyes on him, Brasta rose and bowed graciously towards the Emperor. "I live to serve, my liege."

Uriel smiled, and rose from his throne. "Excellent. I will give the orders to have the Nerevarine released from the Imperial Prison. Meanwhile, you will be on a ship... to Morrowind."

With that, Chancellor Ocato, who had been until now silent at the Emperor's side, spoke up. "The Council is dismissed." With that, all the councilors exited the chambers of White Gold Tower, bound for their homes... save but one. As Brasta walked out of the palace, he smiled as he thought, _And so, another dangerous adventure begins. _


	2. Chapter 2: The Prisoner

**THE NEREVARINE'S POV**

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Red. All I saw was red; red dust everywhere, clouding my vision and swirling around me like a sandstorm. _Hmm,_ I thought. _Reminds me a bit of home. _I froze when I heard a strange, disembodied voice speaking."They have taken you from the Imperial City's Prison, first by carriage, and now by boat." My first thought was naturally, _What the Oblivion? _Things got even stranger as the unearthly voice continued, "To the east, to Morrowind." Morrowind? No- anywhere but there! I knew how the Dunmer treated Khajiits like myself. And I did NOT want to spend the rest of my life digging up ash potatoes or whatever it was Dark Elves grew in their little hellhole of a province. This had to be made up by my jailer at the Imperial Prison- he must of spiked my food with some sort of hallucinogen just to torment me more. "Fear not, for I am watchful. You have been chosen." Chosen for WHAT? To be a plantation slave? Or worse, Mara forbid- a Telvanni house slave? I had a dreadful feeling in my stomach as the nightware realm around me, along with the unearthly voice, faded away...

"Wake Up. We're Here. Why are you shaking? Are you ok? Wake up." I awoke to see a shirtless Dark Elf standing over me, looking surprisingly concerned. Was he supposed to be handing me over to the slavers? "Stand up." I shakily rose to my feet, leaning against a nearby wall as I took in my surroundings. From the dim light of an overhanging lantern, I figured I was in the hold of a ship of some kind. _First by carriage, and now by boat,_ the words from my dream came back to me. "There you go. You were dreaming. What's your name?"

"R-Ro'jiir. Ro'jiir Sa'vasci." I stammered. So many questions were running through my mind as I warily looked around the small cabin we were in: where were we? Who was he? What in the blessed name of Alkosh (or Akatosh, to you Cyrodiilic readers) was I doing here?

But before I could start my questioning, the Dark Elf said, "Not even last night's storm could wake you. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind." At that, I suddenly snapped to full awareness. No, no, NO! Dreams were NOT supposed to be real! Unaware of my internal panic, the Dark elf continued,"I'm sure they'll let us go." Just as soon as those words left his mouth, the soft thudding of leather boots could be heard outside the door of the cabin. "Quiet, here comes the guard!" he whispered.

A rattling noise was heard, and our door swung open to reveal a tall Imperial guard in studded leather armor. "This is where you get off, come with me!" he barked. With a sigh, I shuffled out of the cabin, manacles digging into my wrists while the guard muttered, "Get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible." How could I not? My hands were manacled together. The worst I could do was step on this guards foot. I actuall contemplated that idea until the guard pushed me up a ramp and onto the deck of the boat.

I'll admit it; where i was did not look like much. I was on a slippery, brine-stained deck, surrounded by a half a dozen guards. The only building in site was an old Imperial-style building on a nearby shoreline, connected to the ship by a creaky gangplank. A nearby redguard pushed me forward towards the gangplank, muttering, ""This is where they want you. Head down to the dock and he'll show you to the Census Office." I obliged, and walked across the gangplank to meet yet another guard.

"Ah, you've finally arrived." Yes, I'd arrived- now could this armor-plated clown get me out of here? "But our records don't show from where."

I sighed in exasperation- I wanted to get out of here before a bunch of slavers I thought were almost certainly waiting for me got to me. "Ro'jiir Sa'vasci, Khajiit from Elsweyr."

"Great, I'm sure you'll fit right in." Yeah, that was likely- I'd fit in perfectly with people who have been abused, worked to death and beaten most of their adult lives. Well, at least I would after eventually- after experienceing a decade of the same thing. "Follow me up to the office and we'll finish your release." At that, my eyes widened- release? I was getting out of these manacles? Out of my sentence? As my heart ballooned with hope, I intentionally kept my mouth shut- I thought if I said anything, I might might jinx this for me. With a new spring in my step, I opened the door and walked into the Imperial Census and Excise Office.

As soon as I opened the door, i was greeted by the bright, cheery voice of a balding Breton. "Ahh yes, we've been expecting you. You'll have to be recorded before you're officially released." If this was an entirely different setting, I would be jumping for joy in the air like I'd snorted too much moon sugar. However, this quiet little office with a guard by the doorway did not seem the right place. "There are a few ways we can do this, and the choice is yours." I looked down at a sheet of parchment on the Breton's desk.

**_For release, by Emperor Uriel Septim VII's decree, to the district of Vvardenfell in the province of Morrowind._**  
**_Name: _**  
**_Race: _**  
**_Class: _**

**_Home Province:_**

**_Home City:_**

**_Birthsign:_**

**_Signed, _**

**_Socucius Ergalla, Agent of the Seyda Neen Imperial Census and Excise Office._**

**_16th of Last Seed 3E427. _**

As soon as I finished reading that, my eyes lit up, and I immediately started spouting off my answers to the criteria on the list before the clerk could even ask me questions. "Ro'jiir Sa'vasci, Suthay-rayt Khajiit..." Now as for class... well, I'd been sort of a... hired guard back home. All right, I'll admit it- I used to escort moon sugar and skooma caravans headed for Bravil. I'll also admit that's the first (and **only**, I assure you!) time I ended up snorting moon sugar. Well, at least I wasn't a thief- I actually had a paid, respectable job... until a legion patrol caught me with the drug smugglers, and BOOM- the Imperial Prison for _moi _(as they say in the Breton language). However, I wasn't in the mood to spill my life's screw ups to a nasally Breton clerk. "Mercenary." I finally said. Well, it was accurate enough. "Elsweyr, city of Rimmen, and the sign of The Steed."

With that, the clerk jotted down all my answers quickly onto the parchment, folded, sealed it, and handed it to me. "Good, show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee." With a flourish, he took out a key and unlocked my manacles, dropping htem to the floor. Oh, this was too rich! With renewed vigour, I nearly jumped through the doorway at the other end of the room. I spotted some food and silverware on a nearby table... hmm, some of that silver would not be a bad prize.

_No,_ I thought. _You are not going to turn into some sterotypical overgrown kitten who can't keep his paws off everything that looks valuable. You just got released, for the love of S'rendarr _(Stendarr)_!_ I sighed- I really didn't want to screw this up. Eyes pointedly _off_ the silverware, I exited the building, headed into a small courtyard, and then into another building... to run into yet another armored Imperial guard. "Ah, the prisoner. I'll just take that..." he said, taking my newly acquired pardon and examining it, before dropping it onto a nearby table. "I'm Captain Sellus Gravius." Oh, thank the Divines- he wasn't just swiping my pardon! "I'm here to welcome you to Morrowind."

I tentatively spoke up, still anxious. "Umm, Captain, why exactly am I in Morrowind?"

Captain Gravius frowned, then looked up at me. "I don't know why you're here. Or why you were released from prison and shipped here. But your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself." At that, my head titled sideways in curiosity - forgive me, but it's a cat thing. But why would the Emperor release ME, an insignificant prisoner? This was beginning to sound very suspicious to me. "And I don't need to know any more than that. When you leave this office, you are a free man... err, Khajiit. But before you go, I have instructions on your duties. Instructions from the Emperor. So pay careful attention."

"I assure you, I'm listening." I said impatiently, tapping my foor on the floor while my tail twitched for no apparent reason.

The captain semed to pick up on my irritable cynicism, for he shrugged his shoulders. "It's all very mysterious, I know. But that's the way the Empire works. Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing." I almost facepawed at that- if that was a way to run a government, then the Emperor must of been preparing for Mad Pelagius Day six months in advance. But, of course, i said nothing as he fished a letter out of a satchel at his hip. "This package came with the news of your arrival. You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub, and ask for Caius Cosades - they'll know where to find him. Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself. I also have a couple of letters for you, and a disbursal to your name." With that, he handed over a package, two letters, and a satchel full of septims with a belt. I gratefully slipped everything into the satchel, and turned around.

But before I could exit to freedom, the captain said one last thing. "Before you go to Balmora, head over to Arrile's Tradehouse. It's a popular place, but that's not the reason. When you get there, ask for a man named Brasta. He's been sent by the Emperor to accompany you too Balmora. Beyond that, I don't know. Safe travels Khajiit!" I nodded warmly, then walked into the sunlight.


End file.
